


Sacrifices

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Tok'ra/Goa'uld sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-17
Updated: 2004-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hebron volunteers to be host to Tanith, and Martouf must deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Up to Season four. Takes place during "Crossroads"
> 
> Extra special thanks to my Padawan 'Blade, who helped get this baby into shape. And Nicci for the quick beta help. This was very difficult to write because of the logistics of having two people in one body, and more than one body interacting. There might be three Tok'ra in a room, but there are six distinct personalities interacting. And Tok'ra sex just takes it to a new level. *boggle* There is inherent confusion in the writing, but I hope I made it clear enough to follow and still be loyal to the characters.

"You have no idea what you are getting into!" Martouf's voice was deep and dangerous, as close to shouting as he ever came. The low growl echoed off the crystalline walls, amplifying the sound until it was one long ringing noise of anger and hurt.

Hebron watched Martouf, his dark eyes patient as he waited for the Tok'ra to calm down. Only when Martouf finally stopped his pacing and actually met Hebron's eyes did the younger man speak. "Did you have any idea what it would be like before you were blended? Could you have even conceived of it?"

Martouf hissed in a breath between his teeth, but before he could speak the caustic words on his lips, he felt Lantash pushing at his consciousness. His symbiote was distantly amused; for once it was Martouf who needed a calmer mind to take over. Martouf was having a hard time distancing his feelings when it came to Hebron. While Lantash was careful, not allowing himself to get too close to Hebron after so soon losing Jolinar, Martouf couldn't council his heart the same. He had admired the man before Jolinar's death, and he loved him greatly after, finding solace in their friendship. Gladly, Martouf stepped back mentally, giving way to his Other as he simmered in his own boiling emotions.

"This blending will be different, Hebron," Lantash spoke, his deep voice rising smoothly from Martouf's throat. "Even if it is not too late, and you both survive, it will be no Tok'ra that you are welcoming into yourself. It is still a Goa'uld. We have no way to be certain that it truly has changed."

Hebron straightened his back, looking very proud and very regal. "I'm willing to take that chance."

Martouf shuddered and snarled within himself, 'I will not!' but Lantash kept him from speaking those words aloud. Martouf ached and argued, and all the while Lantash stared aloofly at Hebron's face, preserving their outward calm. He could read Hebron's resolve was clear in the set of his jaw, the glint in his dark eyes, even if Martouf chose to fight it. "It is your choice," Lantash spoke aloud, while inside he repeated sternly, 'It is his choice. He knows the risks.'

"Yes, it is," Hebron returned, dipping his head a little towards the Tok'ra.

"And you understand that if it is still a Goa'uld, then you will have no control over your body. You will be trapped, nothing more than a prisoner to the powerful personality within you. We might not be able to separate you. You could still die."

Again, Hebron dipped his head. "And if it truly wishes to join the Tok'ra, then we will be far closer to destroying the Goa'uld than we could have ever hoped." Hebron breathed deeply, his gaze going distant. Martouf knew his lover was remembering what was done to him and his people, and he mourned for the joyful young prince that Hebron might once have been. When he spoke again, his voice was rough and deep, as though he spoke through thick smoke or terrible flames. "I would give up my life to see that goal achieved."

At last, Lantash withdrew, and with a sudden jolt Martouf was moving to Hebron's side, his body responding without conscious thought. He needed to be close to him, but he forced himself to stop before they could touch. His hands swung at his side, as aimless as his thoughts. With a breath, he found a measure of his usual calm and let go of some of the fear burning in his heart. "Many have already lost their lives for that goal," Martouf said carefully, forming each word deliberately as his thoughts invariably turned to Jolinar, to the many Tok'ra who died over the centuries. It was a long list, and it took him a moment before he finished his thought. "But you do not have to die this day. The Council can find another host. You can wait for a real Tok'ra, as we planned."

Hebron was already shaking his head before Martouf finished his last sentence. "There is no time. Anise said that the Jaffa and the symbiote will die if a host is not found within a day. There is no other choice." With a rakish smile, Hebron threw off his sadness and embraced hope. "I will bring you a weapon capable of winning this war, Martouf. The symbiote won't be able to deny me that."

Martouf had to return the smile; it was as beautiful as it was infectious. If there was one host Martouf could have chosen who could not only survive a blending with a Goa'uld but come out of it the stronger, it would have been Hebron. He had already survived their tortures, their death camps, and their enslavement. Brave, proud, and as tricky as any Tok'ra who ever lived... Deep inside, he knew the truth of Hebron's words, a truth Lantash had already recognized.

Martouf couldn't settle his disquiet, though. The war was escalating. Unable to resist the need anymore, he reached out to Hebron, running his palm down his cheek before pulling him into a strong embrace. Hebron gave easily, leaning into Martouf's chest as they wrapped their arms around each other.

'One last night,' he mused sadly, remembering other nights that weren't always the last, but could have been. Living in constant war for survival was not a way to live, especially not for a hundred years. Martouf was tired, even though Lantash--who had survived much longer than he could properly conceive--was still able to continue the fight. Within his symbiote, he felt the weight of centuries upon centuries, and a passionate soul that sustained them both. Martouf may be tired, but within his arms he held the hope of billions.

"You will survive," Martouf said, turning his face into Hebron's neck. He pressed his forehead into the heat of his pulse, burrowing into the strength of his shoulder. "You will survive and we will celebrate."

"Just the four of us," Hebron joked lightly.

Martouf smiled into his skin. "Just the four of us," he promised. He kissed the pulse beneath his mouth, repeating it softly. Hebron sighed, his hips swaying against Martouf's body. If war had taught them one thing, it was to take the quiet moments when they came, and waste as little of it as possible. Pushing the thoughts of Goa'ulds and danger from his mind, Martouf opened his mouth, licking and sucking a mark on Hebron's skin, right where his neck met his shoulder.

Hebron's head fell back as he stretched out and up, moving into the harsh kiss. His fingers dug into Martouf's shoulders, pulling him along as the man staggered back towards the bed. Martouf let him lead, blindly following as he clung to Hebron's body, worrying the same patch of skin with lips and tongue. He stopped just short of using his teeth; Hebron was not Tok'ra yet, and any marks would still be visible the next day. The thought made him growl fiercely. The Goa'uld may take Hebron's body, but Martouf was there first.

They tumbled onto the bed together, Hebron groaning as he hit the hard platform. Martouf's landing was a little softer, though Hebron's hip was sharp against his stomach. He stretched up over Hebron, finally finding his lips and kissing him breathless. Martouf loved to kiss Hebron, the way he could be soft and open one moment, then hard and demanding the next. He kissed like he argued; changing tactic often enough to keep his opponent off guard, on edge, ready to explode even as he calmly took control. Martouf slid off Hebron's chest, rolling him along until they were on their sides, legs entangled as they kissed and moved and moaned.

Clothes came off with ease; the Tok'ra garments were designed to be removed quickly, though romantic trysts had probably not been in the minds of the tailor. All the same, it made things easier. The slide of a hand, and Hebron's chest was bare. The tickle of fingers, and Martouf's shirt fell off his shoulders. The discarded cloth helped to pad the bedding, to give them a better buffer between hard crystal stone and delicate skin.

Martouf's lips were sore, bitten, his hands scrabbling to caress Hebron everywhere at once. It was so good to touch him, taste him, but it never seemed to be enough. Tearing his mouth away from Hebron's skin, he rolled over, turning his back to his lover. Hebron's hand caressed his flank, and Martouf seized it, pulling Hebron's arm across his chest. He tugged until Hebron was flush against him, their bodies almost lined up perfectly. He twisted his hips, moving sensuously until he could feel the hot length of Hebron's erection sliding between his cheeks.

Hebron buried his face into Martouf's hair, his hips unconsciously humping into Martouf's movements. "We need--"

"No. Do it now."

"But--"

"I don't care." Martouf twined his fingers with Hebron's and moved their hands down to squeeze his own aching erection. He gasped and groaned loudly, not holding back at all as their hands moved over his skin. "I need it. I need to feel it forever." He was nearly babbling, his words not making sense to his own ears, but he knew Hebron would somehow understand.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Hebron's fingers untangled from his grasp. They outlined the bump of Martouf's hip, stroked the curve of his ass. The delicate play tortured with tenderness when he desperately wanted more. The soft touch brushed up the ladder of his spine and finally fell off all together. The wet noise of his lover sucking his fingers was loud in Martouf's ear, and he whimpered aloud, needing haste. When the soft touch returned, it was more determined, leaving a cool, wet trail behind as it slid between his cheeks. His fingers were just slick enough to let Hebron slip two fingers inside. The shallow burn was almost too good, too much, and Martouf's hand squeezed hard around his own erection.

"Please. Hebron. Now," Martouf panted out, each word punctuated with a breath. He shivered as Hebron kissed the back of his neck.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

Lantash had withdrawn to the edges of Martouf's consciousness. The host's inattention to his Other made it seem as though he were alone with Hebron, but now his symbiote pushed to the surface. There was a moment of blending. Every sensation jittered and magnified, nerves tingling as two minds felt the incredible pleasure of Hebron's fingers moving inside them, his body pressing against their back, his lips on their skin. Martouf's groans thickened, and his throat felt dry as Lantash spoke. "We can take it. Please..."

Hebron nuzzled Martouf's nape. His fingers withdrew, every movement as tender as before. "Take care of him, Lantash," Hebron whispered fervently as he positioned himself. Both symbiote and host knew he was speaking beyond this rough coupling.

Lantash nodded, and then stepped back once more. All thought for his symbiote, indeed all thought at all left Martouf's mind as blunt pressure grew, his body stretching until finally Hebron was inside. He teased, just on the edge of his entrance, hips barely moving. It was beyond torture now; every nudge made it seem as though Hebron was about to pull out, but instead he was pushing in, further and further, just barely slick enough to ease the movements. The ache was bearable, his body giving way as it had done so many times before. Martouf reached out and pressed his hands against the wall in front of him, using it as leverage to push back, but Hebron remained steady, slowly working forward just a little with every bump of his hips.

The intensity of those tiny thrusts burned into Martouf's memory. He wanted to remember every moment, every sensation, to burn it into his skin so he could keep it forever. Even after they were both gone, Lantash would carry the memory of host and lover, of this moment and so many others. In eternity, somewhere, they would still be making love, in memories never forgotten.

It seemed an eternity before Hebron stopped, his body plastered wet and trembling against Martouf's back. He ran his hand aimlessly up and down Martouf's chest as he paused, his breathing heavy and strained in Martouf's ear. His hips moved in tiny circles, causing the hot length of his erection to shift. It was maddening, the pleasure.

Martouf hissed as Hebron withdrew almost completely, and then slid back inside with a long, slow movement. Martouf clawed at the wall, his body torn between want and need and pain. Tiny injuries tingled, Lantash already healing them, already coaxing his body to accept the invasion, amplifying the pleasure and the ache and every sensation until he was nearly crying from the intensity.

Hebron petted his chest, moving down to grasp his penis. Martouf was only half-hard, and Hebron stroked him carefully, his face rubbing into Martouf's hair. "Are you... do you need... oh, I'm..."

It was hopeless to try to speak. Martouf let go of the wall, his hand dropping across Hebron's roughly. He squeezed, hard, and started to stroke himself with Hebron's hand. He communicated the only way he could, through wordless noises of pleasure, his body jerking and twisting into his lover.

Hebron didn't need much more coaxing. Martouf could feel the moment Hebron stopped holding back, his body suddenly surging forward with relentless determination. His hips pounded into Martouf, quick and deep. It wasn't long before Martouf was shuddering and gasping through his orgasm, his hips jerking back to draw out the pleasure as long as possible. Hebron's sticky hand grasped his hips, and he rolled Martouf onto his stomach. Holding the cradle of his pelvis in both hands, Hebron bore down hard, driving himself into his own orgasm. He coughed and groaned and nuzzled the side of Martouf's head as he thrust a few last times, then slid out, falling onto the blankets beside his lover.

Blindly, his limbs weak and muscles trembling, Martouf pulled himself closer to Hebron, his head falling heavily onto his lover's heaving chest. Hebron gasped for long moments before he threw an arm across Martouf's back, hugging him a little closer. The noise of their pleasure still rang off the crystal walls, most likely traveling the labyrinthine corridors of the hidden Tok'ra base. Martouf smiled, placing a half-asleep kiss atop Hebron's heart. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't remember the words any longer. Even Lantash was reeling from their shared pleasure. Instead, he let his mind settle, the exhaustion pulling him into sleep.

***

Though the Tok'ra didn't have doors, three large guards certainly served as well as one.

Lantash was chafing for a fight, wanting to simply force their way out of the room since Martouf's gentle, but stern, negotiations were falling on deaf ears. He wasn't about to give into Lantash soon, but his symbiote was wearing down his resistance. Martouf tried again, letting his annoyance echo in his voice. "I wish to see Hebron. You cannot keep us in here." He took a step closer, feeling a quick trill of fear. "Please, tell me what has happened."

Martouf had awakened to find the bed beside him empty and the entrance to the hallway blocked by the three guards. They would not speak to him, or acknowledge his commands. A terrible, dark thought occupied his mind--that they had already taken Hebron, that somehow things had gone wrong and he was dead.

Lantash shared his anxiety and his anger, but not Martouf's withering patience. The symbiote growled deeply, "I do not want to harm you, but you will let us pass." A rush of quick temper flashed down Martouf's spine, and he felt the Tok'ra preparing to push his way through--fight if he had to.

Before he could make the attempt, the guards suddenly snapped to attention, crossing their staff weapons across their chests. The guard in the middle stepped back and to the side, opening the entrance so that Freya could walk in. Her face was impassive, and before she spoke Martouf knew it was Anise in control. "I am sorry that you must be detained--"

"I want to see Hebron," Lantash demanded, his voice deceptively calm.

"You cannot."

"I want to be there when it happens. It is my right."

"We cannot allow it."

"You cannot stop me." Martouf's eyes flashed, and his muscles twitched with a surge of strength feeding into his limbs. Lantash stalked across the room and pushed his face close to Freya's so that he could look deep in her eyes as he growled, "I brought him here. Hebron is mine, and I will not allow you to harm him. You will tell me what is happening, then you will take me to him."

Anise, for her part, was unaffected by Lantash's aggressive display. "We are preparing him for the transference. Shau'nac of the Red Hills will arrive shortly. I am sorry for the..." She glanced over her shoulder, pausing as she considered her choice of words. "Interference. But it was necessary. You have another part to play."

Lantash growled deep in Martouf's throat, drawing out the noise like a warning, but he didn't speak.

Anise continued, unphased as before. "As you said, Hebron is your..." Again, she paused, choosing her words carefully and with much difficulty. It was a surprise when she dipped her head, and Freya looked up, her eyes soft and apologetic in a way that Anise could never hope to copy.

"Hebron is your mate," Freya said, and Martouf could sense the sadness in her words, the connection that only two hosts could feel and that the symbiotes could never understand. She offered a shy smile in apology for her symbiote. "You know him best. You could tell if it were really an equal blending, or if the symbiote was simply pretending to be Hebron."

Lantash barely listened. "Why can I not see him now?"

Freya's gaze flickered to the bed, before centering on the far wall. "There is already much tension between the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra. An incident during the transference might further upset the balance of our alliance. If the blending doesn't go well..."

Lantash nodded angrily, forced to concede the necessity in the precaution. In the past, Martouf was the one to smooth over any "incidences" between Lantash the Passionate and the Tau'ri--those times when his control slipped and diplomacy was replaced with cold, hard truth. If something should happen to Hebron, neither of them would be able to be very diplomatic.

Freya stared at Lantash expectantly, and he snapped, "There is more?"

Freya bit her lip as she dipped her head, allowing Anise to return and give what was surely unpleasant news. Anise gave no sign of Freya's apprehension; she delivered the news with a cold voice. "If they survive, and it is determined that the symbiote has not turned to the Tok'ra cause, then it will be your responsibility to guard him, and watch for any signs of danger."

Martouf could bear it no longer. He forced Lantash's consciousness to the side. "You will not remove the symbiote?"

"No. He will be more valuable if he believes his deception has been successful." Anise narrowed Freya's eyes, her head tilting up as she studied him. "You will be required to act as though the blending is equal, no matter the outcome, Martouf. This is an opportunity we cannot let die."

It was a shrewd choice of words. Martouf knew that no matter what the Goa'uld's own private mission was, the Tok'ra would not kill it until every last piece of information was extracted from its mind. Even if Hebron was destroyed in the process.

Martouf felt sick, dizzy. Even as Lantash shared his anger, his symbiote pragmatically agreed with the wisdom in Anise's words. The war was bigger and more important than any individual life. But in his own thoughts, Martouf couldn't make his emotions agree with them. He stumbled to the side, navigating his way to the bed before he could fall to the floor. He sat heavily on the edge, the warm, wet scent of their bodies still clinging to the blankets.

Anise coldly stated, "He knew the risks."

"Did you tell him that you were going to leave that thing in? You know as well as I what the Goa'uld did to him."

"Yes, I do know. They have done the same to countless millions, and will continue to do so if we do not find a way to turn this war."

"But did you /tell/ him?"

Anise pulled herself straight, folding her hands in front of her chest. "I could not. If the symbiote knew of our plan, then all would be lost."

The thought of Hebron being trapped--not for a few hours, or a day, but for years perhaps, while that Goa'uld wore his face... It was too horrible to imagine. Hebron was strong, yes, and brave, but no one should be forced to suffer that much.

'It is not yet hopeless,' Lantash's thoughts whispered to Martouf. 'It is possible that the Goa'uld has changed, that all this clandestine planning will be for nothing and a new Tok'ra will be added to the cause. A new hope, to end the war.'

'I never knew you to be an optimist,' Martouf silently countered, resenting briefly that he could not escape Tok'ra pragmatism even in his own mind.

Another guard appeared at the door, coming to Anise's side with a serious look on his face. "The Tau'ri and the Jaffa have arrived. They are on their way to the rings." He waited until Anise nodded her head before he stalked out of the room. Anise dipped her head to Martouf was well, but before she could leave, Martouf called her back.

"Anise! I want to see him as soon as it is done. Before anyone else does. I need to... We have to see him alone, to be sure."

She seemed to think it over. For a moment she simply watched Martouf's face, Freya's eyes distant and calculating. Finally, she dipped her head again. "As you wish."

***

Martouf could feel him before he came into sight. It was like a piece of ice sliding across his neck; Lantash shivered as he sensed an unfamiliar symbiote. Martouf was already starting to stand when the guards parted from the door and disappeared. Anise entered the room, her face unreadable. She folded her hands in front of her. "The transference was successful."

Martouf sucked in a shivering breath, not sure if he could trust himself to speak. The need to see Hebron was a bright stabbing pain in his throat, a giant fist in his stomach, and yet he feared the moment just as much. What if it wasn't his Hebron? Would he be able to keep up the charade?

There was no more time to spend on such thoughts; a dark figure stepped through the entrance. He moved slowly, majestically, his head held high with a slightly amused expression. For a moment, Martouf could almost believe it was Hebron, but the man's eyes were cold.

"Martouf." Hebron's voice was still beautiful, its music enhanced by the deepness of a symbiote's voice.

"Leave us," Martouf said to Anise. She paused, but he begged her with a look. She, or more likely Freya, understood, and Anise backed out of the room. A lone guard remained, but all that could be seen of him was his staff weapon and a little bit of his right arm. They were as alone as any Tok'ra could be. "Hebron?"

Hebron's face smiled, but it was an alien gesture without a hint of its usual warmth. Whereas Hebron wore his regalness lightly, ready to cast it off in deference to a greater leader, this person held all the arrogance of a Goa'uld. Of a Tok'ra, too, Martouf noted, thinking of his own symbiote's haughtiness. They were all arrogant; only the hosts were capable of being humble. "He is here," the symbiote assured, teasing cruelly.

"Let me see him." Lantash was threatening to come forward, to take over in a situation where Martouf was losing his control, but Martouf held him back. It was something he had to do. "I want to see Hebron."

The symbiote let the smile slide into something almost flirtatious. He dipped his head, looking up through his lashes. He blinked, and his stance changed--shoulders dropping, spine relaxing. Hebron's fingers wiggled, as though they had fallen asleep. Then he looked up.

"Martouf." Hazel eyes were shadowed black by thick lashes, but the gaze was warm, inviting, and filled with love.

It was Hebron. Relief flowed into Martouf's body, stealing his ability to breathe. He couldn't move, but that was just fine as Hebron had full control over his body. The fluid steps, the sinuous grace of those hips, that smile... It was Hebron.

His arms were around Hebron before Martouf even realized he'd reached out for him. As he held him tight, he marveled at the familiar strength and heat, the way his lover felt in his arms. It had to be real. He pressed his face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent. "It is you."

"Yes," Hebron said quietly. He nuzzled against Martouf's ear and squeezed him once more around the ribs. Then his arms slipped down to Martouf's waist and pushed him away. Their eyes met. "I am fine," he said slowly, drawing out the words. "It... is strange." He smiled crookedly, his eyes going distant for a moment, as though he were listening to a distant song. "You were right; I had no idea what it would be like."

"Your neck!" Martouf reached out, drawing his finger down the side of the wound, red and bloody but already healed. The front of his shirt was torn open, the clasp ruined by the violence of the action. "Who--" Martouf cut off his own words, turning his head away. He looked over Hebron's shoulder towards the door, his mind moving faster than his words could follow.

Lantash had seen similar wounds hundreds of times. It was the mark left by a Goa'uld when it took over its host. Usually they would enter at the back of the neck, so that they could forget the horror on their host's face. As Martouf stared, Lantash came forward. "Something went wrong." His deep voice had a dangerous edge. Martouf's blood-coated fingers slid over each other as Lantash folded his hand into a fist. "Who did this to you?"

"I did." The Other rose to the surface of Hebron's mind, eyes flashing and voice distorted. The transition was seamless; the symbiote was secure in the blending. For a moment, they glared at each other in challenge, testing each other's strength. It was Hebron's symbiote who broke the eye contact, turning away with a somber frown. "They had waited too long. It was dangerous; Shau'nac would have died."

"His shirt?"

Hebron's eyes flashed. "He did that to himself." Lantash made a noise, like a growl deep in his throat. "I swear it. He offered himself to me." Hebron's spine straightened, and he held his head high. "You should be proud of him. Without hesitation, he opened himself to me, and saved my life as well as that of my Jaffa."

"Hebron, is this true?"

"Yes." The voice came from the open archway. Both turned to see Anise walk into the room. Hebron bowed his head in acknowledgement, but Lantash watched her with suspicious eyes. "Tanith was forced to leave the Jaffa. Hebron knelt beside her and offered himself. There was no time for anything else."

"'Tanith'?" Lantash repeated, his eyes sliding towards Hebron. His eyes glittered a moment, then grew dark.

"I am sorry to interrupt," Anise continued, "but the implantation is completed. The Jaffa Shau'nac is asking for you."

Tanith dipped his head towards Lantash, that strange flirtatiousness twisting his mouth. "I will return."

Martouf wished to answer, but Lantash kept him from speaking. "I look forward to it," Lantash said softly. Tanith nodded to Anise and stepped out of the archway and into the corridor. The guard by the door snapped to attention and followed close behind as they headed towards the infirmary. Lantash kept his gaze on the man until he disappeared.

"Is he Goa'uld?" Anise asked.

"I have my suspicions," Lantash answered. "He is different, but that might be simply from the blending. I do not think I like this Tanith."

Finally, his symbiote subsided and allowed Martouf to speak his mind. "I think Hebron speaks freely. He seems so..." But even in his desire to see his lover alive and healthy, Martouf could feel that niggling doubt in the back of his mind, itching as Lantash swam in uncertainty.

"Yes?" Anise prompted, impatient.

"I need more time. How can I tell anything after only a few minutes?"

Anise paused, then dipped her head. "Very well. I hope you are correct, Martouf." She turned without waiting for a reply, following the same path Tanith took towards the infirmary.

Martouf collapsed onto his chair, feeling his strength drain from his spine. Within he communed with his symbiote, Lantash's thoughts flowing as fast as his own. The few moments they spent with Hebron and Tanith were replayed over in their minds, searching for a clue, a sign of hope, or of failure. It offered no comfort, but it kept their minds occupied.

By the time Tanith returned, Martouf and Lantash had come to only one conclusion--that Tok'ra never trusted someone upon first meeting them. And if they were anything, they were Tok'ra.

Martouf didn't stand to greet Tanith as he walked in the door, but sat and watched as he calmly crossed the room, ignoring the Tok'ra guard who once again positioned himself beside the entrance. It was likely they would have to suffer his presence for a few days at the least.

Martouf studied Tanith with new eyes. He didn't look at him as his lover, but as a stranger. It reminded him of the first time he met Samantha Carter--the odd sense of familiarity in a stranger's body. He hadn't trusted her at first, but she had proven her worth.

He wanted to believe.

Tanith stopped just a few paces away from Martouf. He didn't carry himself as a stranger. Confident, arrogant, at ease, in control; like Lantash, Martouf wasn't sure if he liked Tanith yet, but he couldn't deny that feeling of connection. It had not led him wrong with Samantha.

Tanith tilted his head back, his shoulders rolling in a stretch. His shirt was once more tucked into place, but the red line where the symbiote entered could still be seen glistening just above the collar. He moved with an unconscious grace, stretching and yawning. When he met Martouf's gaze once more, he could sense the difference in the man.

"The Tau'ri have left," Hebron said softly. He drew in a long breath, his gaze darting around the room. "Shau'nac is resting. She is adjusting well to the primta, but is exhausted by her ordeal."

"And you?"

Hebron's gaze once more returned to Martouf. He gave a weak smile, but it was pinched and tired, barely a shadow of its normal radiance. "Ready to save the universe."

"You look ready to fall over." Martouf gestured to the only other place to sit in the room, the bed, and Hebron took the offer, perching on the edge. The silence drew out as Martouf sought a point of conversation, but he kept coming to the same question. Finally, he simply asked, "What can you tell me of Tanith?"

Hebron seemed a little surprised by the question. His eyebrows hiked, and his gaze turned inward as he considered it and found the words to answer. "He's...young. And yet, I can sense so much--so much of a past. It is as though I just have to direct my thoughts, and I can see so much that is not my own." Hebron searched Martouf's face for some sign of recognition. "Was it like this for you? This...confusion?"

Martouf nodded with a rueful smile. "Oh, yes. Sometimes even now, I can forget which of us is thinking, whose memories I am sensing. It can be overwhelming." He grew serious again. "But I think your feelings might be a little different. A symbiote carries the genetic memory of its progenitors. I cannot imagine what Tanith remembers."

"Yes." Hebron pulled away a little, his arms wrapping around each other.

Lantash's memories weren't always pleasant, and the symbiote held a great shame for the distant Goa'uld past he could still remember. For Tanith and Hebron, that past was not so distant. They fell silent for a moment, each contemplating the weight of the conversation.

Hebron broke the tension with a tight, short laugh. "No one told me it would be so awkward."

"What?"

Hebron gestured around him. "This. You. I've known you for years." His smile grew mischievous. "I know you /very/ well, and yet, I feel like I just met you. I haven't been this nervous...in a long time. I keep expecting the worst things to come out of my mouth."

"Like the time you complimented Garash on her breasts?" Martouf asked through a teasing smile.

"How was I supposed to know that was an insult on her home planet?" Hebron's grin grew wider. "They were very nice, though."

"Yes, they were." They shared the memory with a leer and a nod, and suddenly Martouf slid out of his chair to join Hebron on the bed. How could a Goa'uld remember such an obscure fact of its host's life? If it were not a true blending, then how could it carry out such an elaborate hoax? The last of his doubt fell away.

It started out as just a friendly squeeze on Hebron's shoulder, a smile of assurance, but Martouf's hand slid across his shoulder and without thinking he had Hebron in his embrace. Martouf rubbed his cheek against the side of Hebron's face. "I have missed you," he said simply, feeling as though a hundred days had passed.

Hebron laughed, a small huff of noise against Martouf's ear. "I never left." Hebron rubbed his fingers over Martouf's short hair, sending tickling sensations down his spine. His lips grazed Martouf's ear.

Before more could pass between them, Martouf pulled back, shifting out of Hebron's arms. His lover looked hurt, but he calmed him with a smile. He carefully walked to the archway. "Guard," Martouf addressed the Tok'ra standing there. "There is no further need for you tonight." When the man didn't leave right away, Martouf leaned close. He spoke in a whisper, so soft that Hebron could not hear. "Tell the Council members I will speak with them. They are expecting my report. Make sure they are all gathered."

The guard nodded and marched down the hall, his face serious. Martouf knew he wouldn't be back for a while. The base was large, and though most of the members were still on planet, they were scattered throughout the sprawling corridors It would take time to gather the Council on such short notice. If it were not enough time, they could wait for his report. It would be well worth it; Martouf had good news.

He turned back to Hebron. The new Tok'ra smiled slyly. "What did you tell him to get him to leave?"

"Merely that I wished to spend some time with my mate, and perhaps his time would be better spent... elsewhere." He stalked across the room back to the bed. Hebron stood to meet him, his mouth open and wanting when Martouf pressed against him. They undressed, barely breaking away, fabric suffering when it clung to skin too long. The need to be as close as possible was strong, stronger than the night before. They were celebrating a victory rather than preparing for defeat. Even their kisses were almost brutal in the urgency.

Martouf's shoulder bruised when Hebron knocked him onto the platform, but he growled playfully, taking it as payback for the night before. His lover was heavy, and they wrestled for dominance. For the first time they were of equal strength, equal bearing, and Martouf rejoiced in it. He tore his mouth away from Hebron's to sink his teeth into his shoulder, nipping and sucking bright marks he knew the symbiote would quickly repair. Hebron chuckled deeply, his voice rough and almost metallic. It sounded so strange, so alien to Martouf that he pulled back, his head knocking against the rucked-up blankets.

Hebron looked down at Martouf, and his eyes flashed white. "Tanith," Martouf started to say, but Tanith cut off his words by devouring his mouth. His teeth knocked painfully against Martouf's lip, almost drawing blood.

For a moment, Martouf felt annoyed at the symbiote's presence. It was /his/ time with Hebron. He struggled to pull away, but Tanith gripped his wrists hard, pushing them down to his side as he kissed him again. He was softer this time, but not as elegant as Hebron with his tongue and teeth. Martouf settled, returning the rough kisses with licks and nibbles, teaching his new lover what he liked.

Martouf tried to reach up and reposition Tanith's head, but his wrists were gripped harder, held down. He struggled for a moment, playfully, and felt bruises begin to form as Tanith squeezed too much. When he tried to speak, to turn his head away from the kiss, Tanith latched on with teeth, winning blood from his lips this time.

"Hebron," Martouf gasped. He felt the surge of strength in his muscles from Lantash, but still could not break his bruising hold.

Tanith's deep voice oozed into Martouf's ear. "I know you like it like this. I remember..." He returned the bite Martouf had given Hebron, only rougher, teeth lingering in the flesh to gnaw and tear until Martouf was sure he was going to come away with a chunk of flesh. He continued to struggle, but still couldn't get loose.

Tanith finally lifted his face from Martouf's shoulder, his lips tinged red. His eyes flashed, and it was almost with relief that Martouf felt Lantash answer the challenging look on Hebron's face. His body shivered with the power the Tok'ra brought to his body, the way his injuries were already healing. Tanith growled, showing his teeth, and Lantash answered, wrapping his legs around Hebron's waist and pulling him closer.

Martouf wanted to protest, but he could feel the determination of his symbiote, the fierce protectiveness that so dominated the Tok'ra's mind. "We can take it," he challenged Tanith. Within, he completed the thought. 'For Hebron.' Lantash stretched up his neck, licking at the line of dried blood left behind by the implantation. The metallic taste filled Martouf's mouth like a wound.

Tanith let go long enough to position himself before he held Martouf down and drove into his body. The dry entry had to be painful for Tanith as well, but he didn't stop, thrusting forward at a brutal, unrelenting pace. Lantash concentrated on shielding the pain away from Martouf, protecting him even in this.

He wanted to protest, but he could feel a part of himself breaking as Lantash stared up into the familiar face, taking the cruel fucking, encouraging it. He had never seen such a look on his lover's face, the sadistic joy at watching the pain he was causing. He searched Hebron's eyes, looking for a hint of the man hidden behind that mask. All he saw was Tanith, eyes flashing as he grew more violent, loving every thrash and writhe of Martouf's body as Lantash played along. Finally, Martouf looked away, turning his consciousness completely inward so he wouldn't be forced to think of how they had failed.

Hebron was lost.

***

The Council members were gathered in the Council hall, their faces expectant. Martouf couldn't face them, so it was Lantash who reported. The Tok'ra couldn't hold back his anger as he addressed the Council members. "He is Goa'uld."

"You are certain of this?" Anise asked.

Both symbiote and host felt the sting of those words, though they knew she held no malice. She was merely being thorough, as she had asked many times before. "There is no doubt." His body still stung with healing wounds, carefully hidden beneath the layers of his Tok'ra clothes.

The Council members solemnly looked to each other, nodding as though they had known all along. Lantash's anger spiked. "I ask again that you remove the Goa'uld from the host immediately. Hebron should not be expected to suffer through this. He has--" Lantash cut off his words, distracted by the swell of Martouf's furious thoughts, the perfect echo of the symbiote's. Lantash turned his face away as he fought to find their calm with the storm of their emotions, not looking up until he could do so without betraying their pain. "He has suffered enough. We should end this before he is damaged beyond our ability to repair."

Five heads bent close, conferring in low voices. Lantash's fierce protectiveness comforted Martouf; his Other would not leave Hebron to suffer longer than was necessary. They would fight, together, to protect him.

The Council members sat back, all eyes concentrating on Lantash. Garshaw's face was hardly sympathetic. "We cannot remove the Goa'uld from the host. He is too valuable. We will continue with the plan."

Lantash growled, showing Martouf's teeth through his curled lips. "Tanith is a monster. He should be destroyed before he has a chance to cause any more harm."

"Tanith is our best chance at gaining valuable information about the Goa'uld," Garshaw corrected. "No doubt he is already planning a way to contact the system lords in order to betray us. We must allow him to do so."

"We will not only be able to control what information he receives," Anise added, "but we will be able to understand how he reports the information to his master. The advantages far outweigh the risks. We will be able to better protect our operatives."

"And what of the host? How will you protect him?"

The members briefly shared meaningful looks between them before Garshaw answered. "He will not be allowed off planet. You will be assigned to watch over him, as we agreed. He will not suspect the reason. We will keep Hebron safe, as much as we can."

"What if the Goa'uld does something to him?"

"You will be there to prevent it," Anise answered confidently, oblivious to the pain on Martouf's face. "Hebron knew the risks. As do we all when we are called into battle. You know this. It is the way of war."

"I am tired of war."

Martouf could feel the weight of the centuries bearing down on them both. Though his body was healing, Lantash could not soothe the pain he felt inside. He ached for Hebron, for the thousands dying this very minute, for the worlds yet to be saved. He ached for every host ever forced to submit to a Goa'uld. Martouf knew the joy of a blending, of sharing his body, mind and soul completely with another being, but he couldn't comprehend the horror of being trapped in that same body, mute witness to a thousand atrocities.

The Council session was interrupted by a single guard charging through the open door of the chamber. His face was red, and he seemed to have run from one side of the base to the other. He barely bowed before delivering dire news on his labored breath. "The Jaffa is dead."

Martouf was already running through the archway, not even hearing the words the Council exchanged with the guard. The corridors were mostly empty, the sense of alarm apparently contained within the single messenger. He headed towards his quarters, to where he had left Tanith alone, but he was stopped short by several Tok'ra in the corridor. Another guard, and two Tok'ra he recognized from the infirmary. The doctor, Ren Al, knelt on the floor next to a crumpled figure. She was pulling a piece of linen over Shau'nac's face.

"What has happened?"

She looked up at Martouf with a distant expression. "The primta was too young, and she had waited too long. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. I am surprised she was able to walk this far."

Martouf looked around, noticing that they were by a new alcove in the ever-growing maze, a small guest room set up for the Jaffa. So close to his own quarters...

"There was no other cause?"

Ren Al looked almost insulted by the insinuation. "What other cause could there be?"

He turned his head and looked down the hall in time to see Tanith carefully picking his way towards them. There was a smile on his face that disappeared almost the instant Martouf saw it, a sickly smug grin that faded into a transparent mask of sadness.

"Is she--?"

"She is dead."

He placed his hand over his heart, bowing his head. "Unfortunate," he said softly. Then Tanith turned and returned to their room, leaving the doctors to clean up the body.

***

The Council members as well as several other Tok'ra stood in a formal procession as the powerful guards lifted the poles of the liter and began to carry it towards the glowing ring of the Stargate. Anise led the procession, her face solemn, her hands folded before her. She had been the one to make contact with the Jaffa Shau'nac, and she would be the one to take her body back to the man who had fought so hard for her life. Her sacrifice would be remembered by the Tok'ra, as they remembered all who fought and died by their sides.

The blue-liquid light dissipated as the Stargate disengaged, and the assembled crowd broke away, returning to the safety of the underground caverns. Martouf lingered, his eyes unfocused as he stared into the wasteland framed by the empty ring. One day, all sacrifices would be accounted for.

"A pity they waited too long to bring her here. Her strength could have brought many to the cause." The metallic-distorted voice of Hebron's symbiote crackled over the desert, filled with calculated sorrow. Martouf closed his eyes, not yet ready to look upon the creature that hid behind his lover's face. Tanith continued speaking, oblivious to the knowledge that tormented the Tok'ra. "We can only hope her lover, Teal'c, can somehow carry on her legacy." There was almost laughter in Tanith's voice, Martouf could sense it. "I do look forward to seeing the rewards of his efforts."

'And to other Goa'uld spies to add to the Tok'ra ranks,' Lantash remarked coldly, his mental voice rising above the frenzied venom of his thoughts. Martouf gathered strength from his Other's anger, finding his own calm in the face of Lantash's emotion. He turned, facing Tanith, and replied solemnly, "I am sure Teal'c will not allow her death to stop his crusade against the Goa'uld." He reached out and touched Hebron's shoulder in a familiar gesture of comfort, feeling the strange tensing of muscle that was completely alien in the man's body. "I am sorry we could not save her."

Tanith tilted his head in acknowledgement, then his eyes slid to the side where two Tok'ra guards stood, staff weapons crossed over their chests as they watched the Stargate from a discreet distance. "Perhaps we could continue this in private..."

Martouf felt a pulling in his heart, a painful tightening that stole his breath for just a moment. How he once had lived for that invitation in his lover's eyes... "I cannot. I must wait for Anise's return." It was a lie, but he offered no explanation, no sign that it was anything out of the ordinary.

Tanith barely glanced over Martouf's features before he dipped his head and gracefully turned to follow the fading marks in the sand where the others had disappeared.

Martouf watched until the tall figure was lost over the hillside. He turned his gaze back to the empty ring, the dying wasteland beyond it. Anise would return soon, but she was not the one for whom he waited. Despite the warmth of the distant sun, Martouf felt chilled. Perhaps it was just the cold, hard truth he was just beginning to truly comprehend.

'I should not have let him go.'

'It was not your choice.'

'I know. It is war.'

'There is still a chance...'

'It is a most dangerous game they play.'

'We all play.'

'Have always played.'

'Some will live. Some will die.'

'And some we can still protect.'

'We will not leave him.'

"We will protect you," Martouf promised aloud, addressing the emptiness. Lantash's thoughts settled in his mind, a strange kind of calm falling over them both. There was nothing more they could do now but wait, and watch. As long as Martouf and Lantash survived, so too would Hebron. They would die before they would abandon him to the Goa'uld or to the Tok'ra's secret plans. Martouf and Lantash comforted each other with vivid details of what they would do to the symbiote once it was removed. They would enjoy watching the extraction process, witnessing the creature writhe and twist in agony. They would welcome Hebron back and find a way to heal his wounds.

"We will not leave you."

THE END


End file.
